I Just Couldn't Help the Way That I Felt
by Kavi Leighanna
Summary: "it's not nothing." It's the tone of his voice that gets her, a quiet affirmation of something he already knows. There's the moritorium on profiling, of course, but with their time together she thinks maybe he's more familiar with her tells than she'd like. - Hotch/Prentiss


_Was a Tumblr prompt when the askbox was open! Super-crossposted. _

_Title from Will Young's "Jealousy"_

* * *

He catches her on the elevator. They've been off, is the thing, and she knows it's her fault. Well, maybe not her fault, but it's her issue. He's a single man and she has no claim, but that doesn't mean that the way he's flirting with Kate doesn't drive her nuts.

It is right stupid. She has no claim, nothing other than the way they've been getting closer, spending more time together. They have a regular coffee and breakfast place for Pete's sake. She'd thought maybe they were working at something… more.

But that's not the way she's seeing it now. Now, she's sick of watching him spend all that time with a woman who looks so much like his ex-wife and she's cranky. And apparently, as he leans against the opposite wall, watching her with concerned eyes, not home free either.

"Is something wrong?"

She shakes her head, dropping it forward so her hair covers her face. She thinks maybe if she was six, she'd be twisting her foot in the ground too. "What makes you think so?"

There's silence for a minute as the elevator climbs. She thinks maybe she's dodged a bullet, that he's done asking. She actually starts to relax.

"Because we haven't gone for coffee since we got to New York."

It makes her head come up just as the elevator dings and she walks out in a kind of weird habitual trance. He follows her, she knows, can hear his footfalls behind her. She doesn't want to do this. She doesn't want to deal with this. It's her problem, they're her emotions and she will give them a nice private funeral, thanks.

Except, you know, that whole part where he noticed. The part where he's apparently seen through her avoidance, the way she's been more than happy to be paired with the local agents rather than cooped up in the office. The part where she's avoided any coffee breaks with him, any trips to Starbucks. It's information she can't process.

"Emily?"

"It's nothing," she finally says, hoping her voice doesn't shake near as much as it sounds like it does.

"it's not nothing."

It's the tone of his voice that gets her, a quiet affirmation of something he already knows. There's the moritorium on profiling, of course, but with their time together she thinks maybe he's more familiar with her tells than she'd like.

"Hotch, it doesn't matter."

"Something's bothering you," he argues in that calm, quiet voice. "And it bothers me."

She sighs, stopping in front of her door and fishing out her keycard. "It bothers you that I'm bothered? Or it bothers you that you can't figure it out?"

"Both," he admits.

She huffs as the door beeps and she lets them both in. And, like habit, she reaches for him as the door closes, using his shoulder for balance as she unzips her boots. She doesn't realize she's done it until she's curling her toes into the carpet.

"That. That face."

Busted. Now she can't even step away, can't put distance between them like she wants. He makes it worse when he steps into her, where she can almost feel her fingers twitching to reach for him. She clenches them tightly.

"I don't understand," he tells her.

He doesn't like not understanding. She knows that better than probably anyone. Maybe even better than Haley did. Better than Kate does, she's sure. She can vividly remember when their breakfast place changed the menus and his complete confusion and frustration. He's a creature of habit and she's messing with his habits.

"It's nothing," she says again, this time gentle, even rests her hand on his bicep. "I'm just tired."

"It feels like you're mad at me."

Her eyes flutter closed. She doesn't want to do this, she doesn't want to put him in this situation. "Not at you."

"But you're mad."

She shakes her head. "You can't fix it," she tells him.

Her breath catches when she feels his forehead press against hers, feels his breath fan across her face. "I want to try."

There's a whimper and she doesn't actually know where it comes from. It must be her, she thinks, because it's not a sound she'd ever associate with Hotch and because the next thing she feels are his hands cupping her jaw so he can tilt her head up. She knows what's coming before he kisses her, but that doesn't stop the way she instinctively pushes up on her toes to kiss him back.

They break panting and she feels the wall against her back. She swallows. "What about Agent Joyner?"

"Is that what this is about? Kate?"

She huffs and feels his hands tighten on the bottom of her skull. It doesn't hurt, but she gets the message. She's being ridiculous.

"Kate and I are colleagues."

"Close colleagues," she says. She keeps her voice low, avoids anything that might sound accusatory.

He strokes at her hair, tucks it behind her ear gently. "Just colleagues."

She hums and lets him kiss her again.

"Believe me now?" he asks, when he pulls away.

Her arms come up, wrap closely around his neck. "No," she says. "Better try again."


End file.
